


Put On a Show

by ofplanet_earth



Series: Backstage [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Bard and Legolas like to watch, Bard is a cheeky little shit, Bartender Bard, Bassist Legolas, Bouncer Dwalin, Dirty Talk, Drummer Tauriel, Exhibitionism, Frontman Thranduil, M/M, Smitten Bard, Smut, Thranduil is a little shit, Thranduil likes to put on a show, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofplanet_earth/pseuds/ofplanet_earth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am not walking to your flat in this awful cold.” Thranduil whined and tucked his hands against Bard’s neck. Bard shivered, but offered no word of protest. “But I don’t feel like listening to Tauriel whine about my improvising onstage and I definitely don’t want to watch Legolas pout the whole way.” </p><p>“He’s got a thing for you, yeah?” </p><p>“He’s been pining for ages.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and nuzzled his cold nose into the crook of Bard’s neck. “He doesn’t hide his jealousy very well.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put On a Show

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LoveActuallyFan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/gifts).



> please read the tags before proceeding and note that this isn't strictly Barduil. don't like, don't read.
> 
> I blame this entirely on [LoveActuallyFan](http://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveActuallyFan/pseuds/LoveActuallyFan). immediately after I posted [I'm With the Band](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5225276) she planted this idea in my head and it hasn't left me alone since. also, thank you for being an awesome beta! you're the best ♡

It was a Thursday. The sun hadn’t yet begun to set, but already a queue stretched down the sidewalk, around three city blocks and came to an end at the doors of The Lonely Pub. Dwalin looked to be in a foul mood— coat zipped tight, hat pulled down over his ears, scarf wrapped to nearly cover his nose against the chill. He only grunted in response when Bard bid him a good afternoon and burst through the doors and into the warmth of the pub. 

Immediately, Bard set to work setting up his station, trying his best not to watch the commotion going on beyond the bar. He removed bottlecaps and replaced them with pourers. He primed the lines of the soda kegs, sliced lemons and limes and peeled open a new box of straws. He continued working with barely a dropped beat when a familiar presence slipped onto one of the stools at the middle of the bar. 

“Have you got any red wine?” A shiver ran up Bard’s spine at the sound of that voice— at the memories of the _sounds_ that voice could make. God, he was in trouble. 

“Sorry mate,” A smile crept onto his face as he turned to fetch a fresh rag from the cupboard behind him, pointedly _not looking_ at the man who’d sat down at his bar. “Bar’s closed.” 

“Pity,” Thranduil said. “I made an acquaintance here before. He made an exception." 

“An acquaintance, hm?" 

"Indeed. Nice lad. Wouldn't let me pay for my drink— asked me only for my name, last time.” _Last time._ Bard remembered too well what happened last time— for days afterwards he'd woken up in the middle of the night to feel the phantom tickle of blonde hair gliding against his chest, hear the imagined hum of Thranduil mumbling sleepily by his ear. 

"He from around here? Maybe I know him.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you’d know if you did. He’s rather tall. Bit rough around the edges. Good with his hands. Got an arse like a Greek god.” Bard turned in time to catch Thranduil raking his eyes appreciatively down Bard's backside, his lip caught between his teeth. Any comeback Bard might have had dried up in his mouth. 

Oh, he was in such trouble. 

Thranduil was sat on his stool, leaning against the bar with his pointed chin resting in his hand. The sleeves of his flannel were rolled up near his elbows, smooth sinuous lines flexing as he tapped his elegant fingers against his cheekbone. His hair was pulled loosely away from his face, scooped up and tied in a bun that left the tips sticking out at all angles. Long shadows jumped and slid over the smooth skin of his throat as he leaned forward. 

Bard shook himself out of his trance, memories of angry customers and overflowing drinks warning him not to get so caught up, this time. “Clearly he didn’t know who you were, or he’d have let you pay for your own drinks.”

Thranduil laughed, the sound driving the pulse in Bard’s ears to race that much faster. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

“I'm curious. What kind of name buys you a glass of wine?” 

“Thranduil,” he said, flashing a predatory smile. 

“Well," Bard put down a glass he’d been drying and leaned against the bar. “That is some name. Must get you into a lot of places. Lots of free drinks.”

“Hmm,” Thranduil agreed. “I suppose.” 

Bard stepped closer, drinking in the shine of Thranduil's hair and the familiar rumble of his voice like a starving man. “I think I might have something for you.” He reached below the bar and pulled a dark bottle of wine from the cupboard. 

“How did you know that’s my favourite?” Thranduil smirked. 

“I met a man a while back who recommended it very highly,” Bard said, peeling off the foil around the neck and pulling out the cork with practiced ease. 

“Well he’s got fantastic taste,” Thranduil smirked as Bard pulled down two glasses from the rack above his head and began walking around the bar. “Are you allowed to drink when you’re working?” 

“My shift doesn’t start for two hours yet,” he said, taking the seat beside Thranduil.

“What do I owe you?” Thranduil asked as Bard began to fill both glasses. 

Bard pondered on it for a moment, eyes catching on the slouch of Thranduil’s shoulders and the way his jeans clung tightly to his thighs. “A kiss,” he decided.

“You’re not trying to take advantage of me I hope?”

“If I remember correctly, it was you who took advantage of me.” Bard laughed.

“I did no such thing!” Thranduil’s expression was caught between a pout and scandalized shock, though Bard guessed both were feigned. 

“A kiss. That’s my price. Take it or leave it.” 

“You drive a hard bargain,” Thranduil said, ignoring the glass that was slid towards him in favour of gripping Bard by the jaw and pulling him into a heady, wet kiss.

Bard was in such trouble, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when Thranduil nipped and sucked on the flesh of his bottom lip.

&

Thranduil spent his entire set making sure Bard spilled as much liquor as possible. It was the only explanation for the satisfied smile he hid behind his microphone every time Bard broke eye contact with a blush on his cheeks and a curse on his lips. He’d spent half the night cleaning up after himself— it got to the point that one of his customers complained to management and Thorin, bless his grumpy heart and short temper, relieved Bard of duty shortly before the set ended.

As a direct result, Bard now stood in the cold night three hours before his shift was due to end, an amp in one hand, a guitar in the other, and metres upon metres of coiled audio cord draped over his shoulder. Next time Thranduil and his band were in town, he’d have to be sure to ask for the night off.

Listen to him— _next time_. He had it bad. Bad enough that he was shivering in the alley between The Lonely Pub and the bait and tackle shop next door, helping the band load up their gear. Thranduil reached down to take the amp from Bard’s hand, then the guitar, then the wires. Then he jumped from the back of the van, hair loose around his shoulders now and fanning out in a halo of halogen light. Bard couldn’t help but to stare as he landed gracefully on the tarmac, and stare still as Thranduil strode forward, until they stood chest-to-chest. And then he kept on, raising his hands to nudge against Bard’s shoulders, forcing Bard to step backwards until he was met with a rough brick wall. 

The cold bit through Bard’s jacket and T-shirt, stealing heat from his back as Thranduil shared in the warmth at his chest. Thranduil's nose had gone pink, as had the tips of his ears where they peeked through his hair.

“Thranduil?” came a voice from the mouth of the alley. “You coming back with us?” Bard tore his gaze from Thranduil's smirking lips to see the bassist from the band standing beside the idling van.

“Go on ahead,” Thranduil called, his words fogging in the chill of the night. “We’ll catch a cab.” 

“We will?” Bard smiled as Thranduil turned his attention from his bandmates back to Bard, leaning in to trap him closer against the wall.

“I am not walking to your flat in this awful cold,” Thranduil whined and tucked his hands against Bard’s neck. Bard shivered, but offered no word of protest. “But I don’t feel like listening to Tauriel whine about my improvising onstage and I definitely don’t want to watch Legolas pout the whole way.” 

“He’s got a thing for you, yeah?” 

“He’s been pining for ages.” Thranduil rolled his eyes and nuzzled his cold nose into the crook of Bard’s neck. “He doesn’t hide his jealousy very well.” 

“I can hardly blame him,” Bard chuckled. “Being around you all the time, watching, but never allowed to touch.” He slid his hands inside the unzipped front of Thranduil’s coat— honestly, if he was so cold he could at least bundle up properly— and slid his fingers beneath his shirt. Thranduil shivered. 

“It’s enough to drive anyone mad, I know.” he laughed against Bard’s neck and pressed their hips together.

“I’m surprised you don’t fancy him,” Bard continued to tease with fleeting touches and invisible shapes drawn across Thranduil's back. “He looks a lot like you.” 

“You think I’m that shallow and self-absorbed?” 

“Shallow, no." 

"Oh, sod off!" Thranduil scoffed and punched Bard's shoulder, though there was no force behind the blow.

"It's not a bad thing! You're a performer, after all. Isn't that part of the job description?" 

"You," Thranduil grinned against Bard's lips, "will pay for that, barman." 

"Hmm," Bard hummed and kissed his wind-chapped lips. “Is that a promise?”

&

"I think we have some company," Bard muttered against the skin below Thranduil's ear.

  "Legolas?" Thranduil mumbled.  

"Mhm," Bard gathered Thranduil's hair in one hand so he could scrape his teeth along the hinge of his jaw. The door to Thranduil's room hung open, a slight creak, a shadow and a flick of blond hair announcing the presence of a third party. The band had booked the penthouse suite at the most posh hotel in the city and Bard would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit out of place amongst the polished wood and fine décor.

  "Don't worry about him," Thranduil had Bard pinned against the wall, the outline of his cock pressing against his jeans as he caged him in.   

"You don't want to say something?" Bard mumbled and pulled just that much tighter on the hair tangled up in his fingers. "He'd probably scare easily. Like a boy getting caught with a dirty magazine."

"So? Scare him off if it bothers you so much." 

"Doesn't it bother you?" They kept their voices low enough that Bard was sure Legolas couldn't hear them from beyond the doorway. 

"We tour together," Thranduil shrugged. "I've fucked men with as little as a curtain separating me from the rest of the band." 

"S'pose I shouldn't be surprised," Bard trailed his hands down along the front of Thranduil's flannel, buttons catching on his callouses and fingernails until he reached the fly of Thranduil's jeans.

Thranduil was about to speak when Bard dove his hand inside Thranduil's pants, gripping and stroking his growing erection and efficiently transforming any protests Thranduil might have had into a loud and heady groan. "What is— ohhhhhh fuck—" Thranduil's head fell against Bard's shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Bard laughed and slid his free hand into Thranduil's back pocket, gripping his arse and grinding him against his palm. "You like showing off. Don't you?" He tugged on Thranduil's hair, stretching his head back and drawing another moan from his parted lips. "You like having an audience?" Thranduil's cock twitched in his hand. He moaned again as Bard began to bite and suck, drawing a bruise from the heated skin of his throat. 

Bard pulled his hand from Thranduil's jeans, chuckling when Thranduil whimpered in his ear. "You're shameless."

  "And you talk too much."   With a hand still tangled in Thranduil's hair, Bard pulled him away— just far enough for the cool air of the hotel suite to rush into the space left between them. He was sex personified: lips swollen and pink, eyes half-lidded, hair just this side of mussed, voice harsh from being onstage, and cock pressing against his unbuttoned jeans. God, it took effort for Bard to push him away, to hold himself back and extract himself from Thranduil's hold. He walked to the sofa nearby, catching Thranduil's dark eyes as they followed him. He sat back against the plush upholstery and spread his legs. 

"What are you gonna do about it?"   Thranduil smirked and leaned his shoulder against the wall where Bard had been. He toyed at the buttons of his flannel, flicking open one and then another while Bard smirked and watched. "Come on," Bard said. "Show off for me." He could see Thranduil grow harder at his words. Bard watched as his hand pressed against his stomach and slid lower.

He said nothing as Thranduil hooked his thumbs into his jeans, running them along the waistband and inching them down, enough that they clung to his slim hips. He kept his eyes on Bard as he stepped forward, each measured step threatening to let his jeans fall to the floor. "You, barman." Thranduil stopped before the sofa. "You like to watch?" He pried open the last buttons of his flannel and peeled it off his shoulders, throwing it to the side as his eyes flashed dangerously.

Thranduil wore another dark henley beneath his discarded over-shirt, tight and clinging to the curves of all his lithe muscles. He peeled it off slowly, drawing out the reveal. "I like to watch you," Bard smirked, reaching out to touch.

"Hmm," Thranduil caught Bard's wrist and guided his hand back back to the fly of his jeans, pressed it against the lewd and damp tent in his pants. "Tell me. What do you like to watch me do?" 

"I like to watch you onstage." Bard hooked his hands onto the fly of Thranduil's jeans and pulled him closer, until he came to kneel above Bard on the sofa. "When you close your eyes and forget there's a crowd out there, cheering for you. I like when you lock eyes with me cross the pub and it's like there's nothing in the world besides you, me, and the music. I like to watch you lose yourself."

Bard began to tug on Thranduil's jeans, pulling them further down his legs. "I like to watch you in my bed. I like to watch as you fall apart beneath me— so fucking gorgeous like that. I like to watch for the moment before you come." Thranduil's cock strained harder in his pants the more Bard spoke, his eyes fluttering closed in the moment before he thought to rein himself in.

"You think you've got me all figured out, barman?" Thranduil's voice was breathy as he leaned in closer. "You think stroking my ego will—" Bard slid both his hands beneath Thranduil's pants, gripping the lush swell of his arse and dipping a finger to run along the cleft between. 

"Is that what I'm stroking?" Bard smirked. "Your ego?" 

"You fucking—" Thranduil's voice broke off in a strained whine as Bard pressed against his hole, teasing his finger along the rim with just enough force to begin to pry him open.

"That's the idea," Bard's attention was drawn again to his right, where he could hear Legolas echo Thranduil's whimper. Thranduil heard too, or else he saw Bard's gaze flick toward the doorway. 

"We can close the door," he whispered in Bard's ear. "We don't need an audience, not if you don't want one." 

Bard arched his hips up into Thranduil's, his hands still buried in his pants. "Who says I don't?" He pressed his finger deeper again, revelling in the sharp twitch it drew from Thranduil's hips. "Come on," He growled. "Put on a show for us." 

Thranduil shuddered and clenched around Bard's finger. His eyes fell closed and he asked, just loud enough that Legolas was sure to hear, "How do you want me?" 

"Like this," Bard panted and gripped Thranduil's arse harshly. "Just like this." 

Thranduil's hands were on him then, making quick work of his belt and tugging at the buttons of his fly. Then he reached behind him, taking hold of Bard's wrists and easing his hands out of his pants. He gasped when Bard's finger left him, but he recovered quickly. He stepped down off the sofa and stood on trembling legs, rummaging in his pocket before throwing a foil packet on the cushion beside Bard. He peeled his jeans from his legs as Bard tore his shirt over his head.

Thranduil's pants came next— slowly— a tease for his audience. From the corner of his eye, Bard could see the swish of Legolas' long hair peeking around the door. It would have been a bold move, the risk of showing himself that way, but the thrill of it raced through Bard's veins.

Thranduil tugged on Bard's waistband, struggling briefly until Bard lifted his hips; then his jeans and his pants were gone and Thranduil was climbing atop him again. He drew Bard's hand to his mouth and began to suck, hollowing his cheeks and spreading Bard's fingers with his tongue. 

Thranduil's eyes were smouldering as he pulled Bard's hand away, a trail of saliva clinging to his lips. Bard wasted no time in reaching between his legs and spearing a finger inside him. The hitch of Thranduil's breath and the sharp arch of his back had Bard reaching forward to hold him steady. He pressed kisses to the broad expanse of Thranduil's chest, peppering his skin with small bites and leaving behind a trail of angry red welts. 

The second finger was added easily and Thranduil tore open the condom he'd left on the sofa, rolling it onto Bard's dick. The third finger had Thranduil keening and writhing, gripping Bard's shoulders and holding him close. 

"Now," he cried. "I need you now." 

Bard didn't bother to question him, only pulled his fingers from Thranduil's hole, dragging along the rim as he went and growling at the sound it pulled from Thranduil's lips. Thranduil gripped him and began to lower himself slowly— teasingly, agonizingly slowly— onto Bard's aching cock. 

Bard could only let his head fall back against the sofa and scratch at the skin of Thranduil's thighs as Thranduil sank down. An eternity passed in the time it took Thranduil to seat himself fully on Bard's cock. He was breathing heavily in his ear, tiny whimpers escaping as he settled around the base, squirming in small circles once he'd taken him as deep as he could go.

Bard's hands were all over him, dancing up his spine and pulling him in for a kiss— more teeth and tongue than anything else. He let his hands wander as Thranduil wrapped his arms around Bard's neck. He skimmed the trembling lines of Thranduil's sides and the tense muscles of his thighs before reaching around to find his arse again. He squeezed and spread, feeling Thranduil tighten around his cock as he began to lift himself up. 

"Oh," Thranduil gasped. "You're so big. So good. Fuck, I— Ah!" Bard had spread Thranduil's cheeks and traced a finger down to feel his cock where it disappeared inside the tight ring of muscle. He licked along the shell of Thranduil's ear and he growled.

"Ride me." 

Thranduil moaned and drew his lower lip between his teeth with a frown, visibly collecting himself before he finally lifted up off Bard's cock. He was slow and clenching and completely maddening. Bard growled again, his fingers clutching the meat of his thighs, wondering if he should take control— if Thranduil was deliberately teasing. He wanted little more than to hold Thranduil still and thrust upwards into that tight heat, or to pin him to the sofa, spread his legs wide around his hips and fuck him properly. 

But then Thranduil found his rhythm and began rising up and sinking down sharply, impaling himself on Bard's cock and moaning low as Bard's tongue found the pulse beneath the skin of his throat. Soon he was bouncing in Bard's lap, his hands twisted in his hair and his lips pressed against Bard's open mouth. Bard couldn't stop himself snapping his hips up to meet him each time. 

Over the sound of slapping skin and desperate moans, Bard could hear their audience whimper desperately from the hall. He turned his head to the side to see Legolas leaning against the doorway and staring openly, his hand in his pants and his mouth agape. Their eyes met then, just as Thranduil sunk his teeth into the skin below the hinge of Bard's jaw. He gasped, let his eyes drift closed, and moaned into Thranduil's hair. He held Thranduil's hips tighter, drove his hips faster until he was the one setting their pace.

"You like watching me? Like me fucking myself on your cock?" Thranduil's eyes were hot coals, burning lines on Bard's skin as he looked on. He leaned in close to Bard's ear. "I wonder," he whispered, the warm fog of his breath sticking to Bard's skin. "Which would you like more? Watching me fuck? Or watching me _get_ fucked?" 

"Oh," Bard groaned. He didn't have an answer, but Thranduil didn't wait for one. He shifted his attention to the skin of Bard's neck, sucking and biting, whining and squirming as Bard fucked him. He was close. 

"You gonna come? You gonna come for us?" Bard asked.

"Yes," Thranduil gasped. Bard fisted his hand tight in the hair at the base of Thranduil's skull, pulling him away from the bruise he was sucking on Bard's throat. 

"Come on," he coaxed. "We wanna watch you fall apart." He held tightly to Thranduil's hair with one hand and began to stroke his cock with the other. Thranduil came with his eyes screwed shut and the most beautiful sounds coming from his parted lips. It wasn't long before Bard followed; Thranduil's spasms and his lewd sounds drawing him quickly over the edge. His moans were muffled against Thranduil's shoulder, the sounds echoing as Legolas gasped from his place in the doorway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://www.ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com) and I like to tag [inspiration](http://ofplanet-earth.tumblr.com/tagged/backstage)!


End file.
